


Big Brothers

by SailorChibi



Series: Babysitting Tony [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adult baby, Age Play, Angst, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Phil Coulson, BAMF Steve Rogers, Baby!Tony, Bathing, Big Brother Clint, Cuddling, Daddy!Steve, Diapers, Drugs, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Infantilism, Kidnapping, Little!Tony, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Phil Coulson, Protective Steve Rogers, Teddy Bears, Thumb-sucking, Uncle Phil, blankies, bottles, but only tony, clint is about four years old, consensual age play, daddy!Phil, little!Clint, mentions of torture, non sexual infantilism, nonconsensual drugging, pull ups, sippy cups, stuffed animals, uncle steve, washing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Clint are kidnapped by Hydra and drugged with something that severely lowers your inhibitions, leaving them both lost and helpless in their little headspaces. </p><p>It turns out the heart of Hydra's greatest weapon can still be twisted by the tears of two little boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I didn't plan to come out with this story. It just kinda came to me out of the blue at work today. I wrote the first chapter, and then it hit me: I wanted to bring Bucky in, and what a perfect way to introduce him.

As the only human member of the team who wasn’t an assassin or a genetically engineered superhero, or who had a rage monster hiding inside of him, Tony Stark had the tendency to be the number one target for kidnapping. Clint was not particularly proud of the fact that he was the number two target, mostly because the Black Widow’s reputation was definitely preceding her and, ever since that mission in Paris, was making more than one potential bad guy give her a wide birth. 

But this was the first time that he and Tony had ever been captured together, and it was starting to get on Clint’s nerves. He _knew_ Tony was there, could hear the screams whenever Hydra decided that it was time for Tony to have a turn at some torture, but the guards were doing an excellent job of keeping them apart. Threats weren’t working, and all attempts at an escape got Clint no further than the hall outside the door. 

Now, they had the tendency to gas his cell before they opened the door. And while Clint was good, not even he was good enough to stay conscious through powerful sedatives.

He flinched again when he heard the familiar hissing sounds, fully expecting to pass out and wake up on that fucking chair. But he didn’t. He was still conscious twenty minutes later when the gas stopped being pumped into his cell. A little confused and a lot wary, he backed into the furthest corner from the door and crouched down to wait. There was no way of telling what the gas would do. Slow suffocation, increased sensitivity to pain, poison… the options were endless.

Clint was still sitting there, and had been for at least three hours, when the cell door finally opened. He looked up as the guards shoved a familiar figure into the cell. Tony stumbled and nearly fell to his knees, but just managed to catch himself on the bed. At a glance, he was breathing hard and his pupils were dilated. Blood had soaked the fabric of the once blue t-shirt he was wearing, turning it black, and most of his visible skin was covered in bruises. In short, he didn’t look that much better off than Clint himself, but at least the light of the arc reactor was still visible.

“Have fun,” one of the guards said with a mocking smile. Clint made a rude gesture in response, not bothering to move until the guards had all retreated. Then he stood up, wincing, and took a cautious step towards Tony.

“Tony?” 

Tony blinked, as though just realizing Clint was there, which was worrying in itself, and shook his head. “Hey Legolas,” he said finally. “Great meeting spot, huh? Next time we’ll have to aim for somewhere nicer. Fury’s bedroom, for example.”

“Well, you can still be sarcastic, so I guess they haven’t done anything too horrible,” Clint said, though he was pretty sure that Tony would be able to wisecrack right up until he actually stopped breathing. “Sorry the accommodations aren’t great, but feel free to sit on any inch of disgusting floor you like. I can even offer you stale water for refreshments.”

“I’m good,” Tony said, sinking down onto the ground on the spot. But not like he had made any conscious decision to sit, but more like his legs had given out on him and his options were to either sit down or fall over. Clint sat down beside him, so close that their shoulders were brushing, and stared at the opposite wall. He wondered if Tony had worse damage hidden under his clothes. He wondered if Steve was freaking out. He wondered if Phil was searching for them.

After a little while, Tony leaned against him. The contact felt nice and warm – the cell was cold to the point where Clint couldn’t help shivering every once in a while – and Clint sighed, letting his head tip back against the wall. He stared up at the only source of light: a single light bulb that was concealed behind glass thick enough that Clint couldn’t break it. He’d tried, hoping for a weapon that he could use against the guards, but all that got him was bruised fists and being knocked out when he ignored the guards yelling at him to stop.

Tony shivered, breaking Clint out of his stupor. He blinked away the spots that came from staring at a light for too long and automatically wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders to share their body warmth. The subtle shaking of Tony’s shoulders didn’t stop, though, and gradually Clint started to realize that Tony wasn’t shivering. He was _trembling_ , the way he did when he was crying and trying not to let Steve or Phil know, even though that was silly. That was what babies did. They cried.

The thing about Tony was that he wasn’t very good at hiding things when he was a baby, and it usually wasn’t longer than a couple of minutes before Phil or Steve would come over and figure out was the problem was: whether it was needing attention, sleepiness, a diaper change, hunger, not feeling well. Or boredom even, though that was rare because baby Tony didn’t seem to suffer the same problem adult Tony did of needing and/or wanting to have his brain occupied at virtually every moment. 

“Daddy,” Clint muttered, when the minutes had dragged by and the hitches in Tony’s breathing were becoming more audible. He frowned a little when no one answered, momentarily confused, and looked around. Reality slammed back into him. He wasn’t sitting on the floor beside Tony in the safety of the tower. They’d been kidnapped by Hydra, and this was the absolute last place where Clint should be feeling this little.

But he did. Trying to hold onto his adult headspace was like grabbing water; it trickled through his fingers, leaving behind the paralyzing fear that he’d managed to push down until now. He bit his lip hard against the urge to cry. He suddenly felt very helpless, and he desperately wanted his daddy to come and make things right. Or Uncle Steve, either one of them would do, but _someone_ , an adult, who could take control of the situation.

“Tony,” Clint said, fighting to keep his voice calm and not sound like he was two seconds away from tears. He gently gripped Tony’s chin and lifted his head so that their eyes met. As he’d thought, Tony was crying. Tears were sliding down his thin, bruised cheeks, and he was sucking his thumb. The same fear that Clint was feeling was reflected in Tony’s eyes.

The lump in Clint's throat got bigger and his eyes started to burn. This was bad. This was so bad that he couldn't even think of the right words to describe it. On some level Clint knew that he was still Hawkeye, the avenger, and that meant he should be capable of acting like an adult. _He_ should be the one taking charge, even if that meant nothing more than figuring out a way to calm Tony down before the guards decided to come back. Because this was not something that Hydra could know about.

But... he was scared. Really scared. He wanted his blanket and his stuffed puppy and his bed and his daddy. He didn't want to be big, because he wasn't. Not right now. He whimpered, wrapping his arms around Tony as best he could, and squeezed his eyes shut as a couple of tears slipped down his face. The pain in his chest and arms seemed a lot worse now, but he remembered having had worse. Just not like this, in a tiny cell where he couldn't even run or properly hide. 

Tony made a small sound and grabbed onto Clint's torn shirt with his free hand. He was shaking harder now as he lowered his head against Clint's collarbone. It was the way Tony usually sat with Phil and Steve, and it made Clint feel really protective but also even more frightened. He was the big boy between the two of them, even if he wasn't very big right now. Tony was just a baby, and Clint had never been a big brother before. He didn't know what to do, and the thought of all this responsibility made his head hurt.

"It'll be okay," he whispered haltingly, licking his lips, tasting salt and blood. He wanted to suck his thumb too, but his hands were covered in blood and dirt and besides, only babies did that. He missed sucking on a corner of his blanket. It always made him feel safe. More tears welled up in his eyes, and he was glad that Tony wasn't looking up at him anymore, because he wasn't being very brave.

"It's okay," he said again, remembering how Barney used to try and comfort him when their parents would fight. Clumsily, he patted Tony's head. "Don't cry, Tony. Daddy and Uncle Steve will be here soon. They'll come rescue us." His lower lip trembled a little, because no one had ever rescued Clint before. Not until he was Hawkeye and actually meant something. No one bothered to rescue Clint.

He looked down into Tony's tear-streaked face. No one had ever rescued Tony, either. 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe their daddies weren't coming after all. Clint tried not to cry, screwing his face up and gulping in air, but he couldn't help it. Little boys were supposed to have daddies to take care of them, but right now they didn't. And Clint didn't know what to do anymore. He knew he was supposed to be doing things, but trying to remember what made his head hurt, and he just knew that there were monsters outside the cell that were going to come and hurt him and Tony, and he really wanted his daddy.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony had learned a long time ago that crying was bad. Crying meant getting attention, which was more often than not meant getting yelled at, and that went triple when Hydra was added to the mix. He never cried when he was big, and even when he was little he didn’t cry as much as Steve told him that he could. But nothing was normal right now, and all attempts to stop crying weren’t working. He was too scared and too little, and his head was filled with too much fog. The only clear thought was how bad he wanted his daddy.

“Shh, Tony,” Clint whispered. He was using his little voice, which meant he wasn’t any better off than Tony was, and he was shaking. “Shh. You’ll get us in trouble if they hear you crying. I know it’s scary, but we gotta…” He trailed off and hiccupped, failing to bite back a sob. “We gotta be b-brave.”

Brave. Well, at least Tony wasn’t being told to man up and stop being such a whiny little crybaby. He nodded, sucking furiously on his thumb. He wasn’t sure why he felt so little right now, when half an hour ago being little had been the furthest thing from his mind. Now he was sleepy and hungry and in pain, and he also had to pee. Tony squirmed a little, pressing his thighs closer together, and curled up closer to Clint. Normally as soon as he started to feel little, someone big got him into a diaper. It was hard to remember that he didn’t have that luxury right now.

There was a clanking sound outside of the room, and then door swung open. Tony whimpered as what looked like monsters started to move into the cell. Not monsters, though: he knew that technically they were Hydra agents, wearing thick armor and heavily armed, guns pointing at Tony and Clint. They just looked like monsters because they were all wearing masks, and none of them said a word: three of them came forward at the same time. One grabbed Tony, unceremoniously pulling him away from Clint, and the other two took hold of Clint’s shoulders and dragged him to his feet.

Clint screamed and started fighting to get away from them. His eyes were wide with fear and he was crying. One of the monsters hit him across the back of his head, and Clint stumbled; a glassy look crossed his face.

“Clint!” Tony yelled, struggling as best he could, trying to lunge forward. He didn’t know what he could do. But he didn’t want them to take Clint away. He didn’t want to be left alone, and he didn’t want Clint to be hurt anymore. But moving the wrong way made his ribs hurt furiously, and _every_ way seemed to be the wrong way. He had to stop when the monster holding him punched him in the ribs, and hot pain surged through his body.

“Knock it off, or we’ll shoot him,” the monster hissed into his ear, and Tony whimpered with pain. The monster let go and he fell to the ground, watching through tear-filled eyes as the monsters dragged Clint out and slammed the cell door shut.

Now he was really alone. Tony curled up into a small ball and started to cry. His tummy hurt really bad, and he wanted his daddy to come make it better. At the same time, there was a tiny part of him that was furious at how babyish he was being, and the conflicting emotions – he wanted to be big, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t know what to do about that - made it worse. He cried harder, pressing his cheek to the filthy floor, and didn’t even notice the pee running down his legs until the smell became too pungent to ignore. 

God, he really was just a dumb baby. He closed his eyes in humiliation, choking on another sob. “Daddy,” he whispered, trying to think about Steve. Steve, who didn’t think that age play was weird at all. Steve, who was sometimes the one to request that they age play, because he seemed to think it helped him too. Steve, who wasn’t here when Tony needed him so desperately.

He slipped his thumb back into his mouth, wishing that it was his pacifier, thinking about Clint and what the monsters had to be doing to him. Because Clint tried to pretend he was a big boy, but really he wasn’t much older than Tony. He still needed his daddy just as much as Tony did. And right now their daddies weren’t there to protect them from the monsters of the world. Eventually, he cried himself to sleep.

It was kinda dark in the cell when Tony startled himself out of a nightmare, fist lashing out weakly in the direction of whoever was leaning over him. His wrist was caught by a cold hand. A metal hand. Tony went very still, terror freezing his insides. He didn’t feel any bigger, but he felt a lot more scared as he looked up at the Winter Soldier. Barnes stared back at him with a blank gaze. There was no emotion in his eyes or his face, not even disgust; it was like looking at a doll.

Tony opened his mouth and then closed it. He didn’t know what to say. The pain in his tummy had moved up to his chest and his head ached from crying too much. He licked his lips and croaked, “Daddy?”

Barnes blinked.

“Daddy,” Tony said again, with a little more conviction, because he remembered his daddy telling him lots of funny stories about Barnes. And he remembered how sad his daddy would get, the way he’d try to smile but it didn’t really work, whenever he came home after another unsuccessful attempt at getting Barnes to come home. His daddy was convinced that Barnes wasn’t bad all the way through. 

He flinched away when he saw the gun that Barnes was holding, and his bladder released a little more pee. Tony sniffed, his eyes welling up again, and slowly took his thumb from his mouth so he could talk. “I want my daddy,” he said, or tried to, the words came out broken and chopped up from sobs. “Steve. He’ll – he misses me. I want to go home.”

The word ‘Steve’ seemed to get through to Barnes. His eyes got a little bit clearer, sharpening with scary focus, the way Natasha’s did when she was really intent on something. “You belong to Steve,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

Tony nodded quickly, because it was true, wasn’t it? He bit his lip, looking up at Barnes through the fringe of sweaty hair that had fallen across his forehead. He didn’t know why Barnes was here. To torture him, maybe. He shivered a little harder at the thought. “I want my daddy,” he said again, pathetically.

Barnes cocked his head, like Tony was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. “Could you invent a new weapon right now?” he asked, almost conversationally, and it was Tony’s turn to blink. Mathematics and science came easier to him than sleeping, but he’d never tried to invent anything when he was little. His daddy and Uncle Phil had a very strict rule against letting him into the workshop and JARVIS was even stricter about following it, though sometimes they would take him down so he could play with Dummy, You and Butterfingers.

He didn’t know how to answer Bucky’s question. “Daddy says I’m not allowed in the workshop unless someone big is there to sup’vise,” he said finally. 

Barnes snorted and straightened up, tucking the gun back at his side. He strode out of the cell without looking back at Tony, who tried to remember how to breath. The door clanged shut as Tony rolled over onto his side, making a face at the state of his wet pants. He wanted to take them off, but being half-naked in a place filled with monsters was a bad idea. And he didn’t think he could bend that way, anyway. He settled for slowly crawling over to the corner and settling down with his back to the wall, arms wrapped around his knees.

He wondered if Clint was okay. He didn’t know how long Clint had been gone for. Why hadn’t anyone come for them yet? Where was his daddy? Maybe his daddy wasn’t coming. Tony closed his eyes, dropping his head on his knees. No one had come for him when he was a real little kid, either. The policy that Stark Industries had against paying kidnappers wasn’t a new one; his father had always refused to pay kidnappers, and the one time his mom had gone ahead and paid the ransom, Howard was furious.

Usually Tony had to save himself. But how was he supposed to do that now? He couldn’t walk very well, and he was tired and in pain and it was all just _too much_. Up till then, he thought he was all cried out. But it turned out there were still some tears left. The room went all blurry as he buried his head and sobbed, and so he missed the door opening much more quietly until Barnes spoke again.

“Get up. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Tony lifted his head, looking up at him in confusion, and Barnes audibly sighed. 

“Get _up_ , Stark. I’m taking you and your little friend home.”


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of Tony's sobs echoed in Clint's ears as he was dragged out of the cell. He knew better than to fight; the sight of Hydra standing over Tony with a gun, the barrel hanging directly over Tony's head, was a silent threat that implied more than words ever could. If Clint put up a fuss, Hydra wouldn't hesitate to kill him. So he went limp, letting the men on either side of him support his full weight, and concentrated on trying to keep a calm face. He didn't want anyone to know that he was scared.

But that was really hard, and easier said than done. Even though he'd had years of experience hiding his emotions - and not just as an agent, either: there were some lessons that Clint had been well versed in long before he came to SHIELD - it was nearly impossible to do when he was so little. Everything just felt so much _more_. And while usually he could compartmentalize and push it all aside until he was in a safer place, the drugs had taken away his ability to do that. The tears just kept coming, sliding down his face, as his hands were cuffed and then he was shoved to his knees.

They made him wait for a long time. A really long time, so long that he had a hard time staying in place. He fidgeted once, squirming back and forth to ease the pressure on his knees, and whimpered when one of the guards jabbed him in the side with their gun. He got the hint and went still, thinking about his daddy and Tony. They needed him to be a big boy. No matter what, Clint had to remember that he couldn’t tell Hydra anything. He was scared he’d forget.

The cell door scraped open, and a male voice asked, "Has he been fully dosed?" Clint couldn't place it at first, but he recognized the man immediately when he risked a quick peek. Baron von Strucker. Oh god. His heart was really pounding now, to the point where he was lightheaded. He couldn’t stop shaking.

"Yes sir. Most recent dose was roughly two hours ago."

"Excellent. A pleasure to see you again, Agent Barton," Strucker said, coming closer. His mouth was set in a cruel, satisfied smile. "My colleagues tell me that you haven't been willing to share any pertinent information with them. A pity that SHIELD has taught you how to hold your tongue. Fortunately, my best scientists have been working on a way to make you agents more... open. And in the case of Mr. Stark, well... I expect that he'll be a lot more willing to work on some experiments."

Clint bit the inside of his mouth to keep from speaking. If he said anything, he was going to start crying. Which really, might have been worth it just to see the expression on Strucker's stupid face. Clearly the man had no idea exactly what this drug actually did, or he would have ordered more research done before he actually administered it. Tony was a baby right now; though he was still a genius, he was no more capable of amazing feats of engineering right now than Clint was. 

"So here's what we're going to do," Strucker went on. "I have some questions about SHIELD, and you're going to answer them. If you decide not to answer, you know how this will go." He gestured to one of the guards, and Clint flinched back when he saw the array of torture instruments being brought into the room.

“I can’t tell you anything,” he whispered, bottom lip quivering. 

“You can’t? I think I have a way to change your mind.” That was the only warning Clint got before a taser was pressed to his leg. He jerked in pain, biting his tongue to keep from screaming, and nearly collapsed when the pain finally stopped. His muscles continued to spasm for another few seconds, and he started to cry.

“Tell me,” Strucker said. “I want to know what SHIELD’s plans are for Hydra and the Avengers. But perhaps we should begin with a detailed list of undercover agents. I’m sure that there are some who have slipped through the cracks.” He brought the taser closer to Clint’s leg, but didn’t press it down just yet. “I want those names, Barton. Tell me.”

“No. Go to hell.” Just this once, Clint figured he could get away with saying a bad word. His daddy wouldn’t be too mad at him. The taser made impact again and he convulsed, screaming.

He didn’t know how long that went on for before Strucker grew impatient. “This isn’t working,” he growled at the guards, throwing the taser away. “Find me White. His damned drug isn’t functioning properly. He’s no more willing to speak now than he was before. I don’t care if the two of them have to be given another twenty doses, find a way to make them talk. Or I’ll be testing all of those –” he gestured carelessly to the tray of instruments “- on you first. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” the guards said together. The masks hid their faces, but not the fear in their voices.

Clint curled up into a small ball on the ground, flinching when Strucker looked back at him. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to say something cocky that would make Strucker angry, and he wanted to not care about whatever Strucker would do to him in return. But he wasn’t brave, and he _did_ care: his leg was throbbing like he’d been burned, and the pain of all his other injuries now seemed magnified, and he was too scared about what Strucker would do if he lost his temper.

“Pathetic,” Strucker muttered, aiming a kick at Clint’s ribs. He strode out of the cell and slammed the door behind him, leaving Clint alone.

Clint stayed where he was and cried quietly to himself until his head hurt too badly to cry anymore. Then he sniffed and opened his eyes. He carefully did not look at his leg, not wanting to know why it burned so bad. Instead he slowly pushed himself up onto his knees and elbows and reached out a shaky hand, grabbing the forgotten taser. It felt weird in his clumsy fingers; even when he was big, he’d never used one before, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to have one now.

He pressed the button and cringed when the taser jumped to life, electricity crackling between the two prongs. His tummy ached when he thought about how that had just been pressed against his leg, and suddenly he was throwing up. It went everywhere: all down his stained clothes, on the taser, on the floor. Clint burst into renewed tears and sank back down to the ground, resting his hot forehead against the ground. The stench was horrible, but he was too weak to move.

When the cell door swung open again, Clint curled in on himself but otherwise didn’t move. He just wanted to hide. He wished he was back in the tower, where Tony had configured the vents so that they were both large and strong enough to support the weight of a healthy adult male. The vents had always made Clint feel safe, because no one could get to him there. In this cell, which was devoid of even a window never mind any furniture, there was nowhere for him to hide. He was the perfect target.

“Clint!”

For a moment, Clint thought he’d imagined Tony’s voice. He only opened his eyes when Tony grabbed him in a desperate hug. “Tony?” he whispered, disbelieving, and wrapped his arms around Tony’s shaking body. Part of him hadn’t expected to see Tony again.

“I wanna go home,” Tony sobbed into his shoulder. “I want Daddy.”

“Me too,” Clint said, his throat hurting. He just didn’t have any more tears left, and maybe that was a good thing because when a shadow fell over them, he was able to lift the taser threateningly. He could at least _pretend_ to be brave for Tony’s sake. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt a baby.

But the Hydra goon just rolled his eyes and easily took the taser from him. Clint stared in shock as he shattered the taser with his bare hand. That’s when he noticed the _metal_ hand and realized exactly who was standing in front of him. He shrank back with a frightened whimper, clutching Tony closer. He’d heard stories about the Winter Soldier. If there was a boogie man for agents, this was it: about the only saving grace was that no one ever heard the Winter Soldier coming. It was quick and – generally – painless.

He didn’t make any move for a gun, though, and Tony clumsily patted at Clint’s shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s gonna take us home.”

“Home?” Clint repeated blankly.

Tony nodded. “Back to Daddy,” he said, brown eyes still big with tears. “Right?” He glanced up at the Winter Soldier, and in a moment of insanity Clint thought he saw the Winter Soldier’s eyes soften just a little bit as the man nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

Phil Coulson's reputation around SHIELD was legendary, and his level of control was infamous. More than one story had been whispered into the ears of new agents, producing a ripple effect: he was respected long before he crossed paths with the majority of those agents. He may not always be well liked, but he was deeply respected. Phil's control had never failed him before, though it had been a very close call when Loki had taken over Clint's mind.

But as the clock mercilessly ticked away the minutes of day four of Clint's and Tony's kidnapping, he could feel that control slowly but surely fraying away. _Four days_ of searching for the lost Avengers with nothing to show for their efforts but a list of empty hiding spots. Hydra had, so far, proved to be one step ahead of all of them, even JARVIS, by relying purely on paper. Not even the world's best computer system could track something that did not exist electronically.

It was nothing short of infuriating. Phil set his jaw against the urge to grind his teeth. This was one of those times when having a vivid imagination wasn’t helpful: every spare moment left him picturing a new brand of torture that might have been tested on one or both of them. It was bad enough that Clint was gone, but at least Clint was somewhat trained for this. SHIELD gave all of its agents a mandatory month long training course on torture. But Tony... Tony was a civilian who had already undergone torture before at the hands of Ten Rings. God only knew what _more_ torture would do to him.

He wasn't the only one thinking like that, either. Chances were it had passed through the mind of every Avenger at some point, but none more so than Steve. Phil cast him an assessing glance, but nothing had changed from ten minutes ago. Steve still looked like he was two seconds from losing his temper and going out to track down Hydra himself, with nothing more than his shield and his bare hands as a way to get at the truth.

Honestly, Phil couldn't say he would stop Steve if he did. He wanted Clint and Tony back badly enough that there was an excellent chance he would've been right there behind him. All he could think about was how sometimes, the four of them had the chance to play together. Since it was just past two in the afternoon, Tony would've been down for his nap. Clint would've been drawing, probably, the most energetic activity he could muster when he was fighting off the desire to sleep with all the stubbornness a four-year-old could muster.

Phil closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself a tiny sigh. Sometimes Clint got so tired he became cranky, and that was usually a recipe for disaster. Because Clint's favorite game when he was cranky was to sneak into the baby's room and wake him up to play. Then Tony would be crying because he was confused and sleepy, and Clint would be crying because he was overtired and Tony was crying, and it would all turn into a huge mess. It could take up to an hour for Steve to calm Tony down once he got fussing, and it was always a task for Phil to punish an already cranky Clint.

But right about then, he would've paid any amount of money necessary to hear those familiar sounds. It would've all been worthwhile because it meant that Clint and Tony were safe and sound. But there was no money to be paid out even if Phil wanted to, because S.I. hadn't received a ransom demand - not that they would've paid it anyway: even after what happened in Afghanistan, the company’s policy remained firm - and neither had SHIELD. It had been just four long days of complete silence. 

The door scraped open, and Phil looked up as Pepper and Natasha came into the room. Pepper did not look good. Her clothing was wrinkled and her hair was askew; she wasn't wearing any make-up and her eyes were rimmed with red. It was a far cry from the image she usually presented to the world. And yet Phil knew that in an hour, maybe less, she would pull herself together so that she could go out and talk to the press. That was the kind of amazing woman Pepper was.

"Anything?" Steve asked, the desperation in that one word making Phil wince. Steve had basically shut down as the hours went by. Tony was his reason for everything. If they didn't get Tony back... it was almost, but not quite, enough to make Phil pity Hydra. They really had no idea what they were going to bring down on themselves.

"I received a communication," Natasha said, exchanging a glance with Pepper. Unlike Pepper, she didn't look any different from normal. The only sign of the incredible amount of strain that she was under was the way she walked and talked, with a tension that ached to spring into action.

"From who?" Phil asked.

Natasha paused for a split second. "The Winter Soldier."

Steve straightened instantly. "Bucky? What - why?"

This was not good. For months now Steve's attention had been divided between Tony and Bucky. If a confirmed sighting of Bucky had shown up now... Phil honestly wasn't sure what Steve would do. 

"You know that sometimes he does this," Natasha said, speaking only to Steve. "He feels more comfortable with me because of our pasts. I'm telling you this as a favor to you both, because I know you're ready to stop asking questions and start shooting. I could have just left without telling you and you would've been none the wiser."

"Natasha," Phil said, low and stern. It was the voice he'd used as their handler, back when it was just the three of them, and it was the voice he used now on the comms for the Avengers. 

She half-turned towards him, borne of instinct, and said, "He has Clint and Tony."

Steve went white and sank back in his chair. The news also sent Phil reeling, but as always he controlled it. "Where?"

"He gave me a set of coordinates. Two sets, actually. One is for the Hydra location where they were being held, and one is for where they are now. They’re close."

"Is Hydra aware?" Phil asked, his mind racing. He wanted nothing more than to burn that building to the ground with all of its occupants inside. And he would make certain that happened. But the more important thing was getting to where Clint and Tony were. By now, the two of them almost certainly needed medical attention.

Natasha shook her head. "No. Not yet. But we don't have a lot of time. He can’t travel far with the two of them."

Meaning, Clint and Tony were injured and it wouldn't be long before Hydra noticed that they were gone. Alternatively, whatever spark of compassion had caused Bucky Barnes to liberate the two Avengers in the first place might dry up. Phil forced himself not to picture his boys abandoned in the middle of nowhere, alone and injured.

"Then let's go," Phil said. He rose to his feet and held up a hand when it seemed like Natasha might speak. "No. Don't even bother. You knew that by telling us we would be coming with you."

She blew out her breath, an amused glint in her eyes, and she nodded. 

"I'll stay here and... and make sure the infirmary is ready," Pepper said, making an attempt at a brave smile. She put a hand to Steve's shoulder and bent, whispering something in his ear. Steve stood and hugged her wordlessly, his expression set like stone. 

"The jet's ready," Natasha said pointedly. “Pepper’s going to tell Fury at 9:00pm sharp. That gives us exactly half an hour to get ahead.”

Phil and Steve fell into step behind her. There was complete silence as the three of them made their way to where the quinjet was waiting. Natasha took the pilot seat, programming in the coordinates that she'd been given. Steve sat in one of the seats. He held his shield in front of him, fingers tapping restlessly against the metal. Phil took the seat beside him and waited until the jet was in the air before he spoke.

"You have to ignore Barnes, Steve."

Steve didn't look at him.

"I mean it. Now more than ever, Tony has got to be your priority."

"You think I don't know that?" Steve muttered, but his voice was no less angry for how quiet it was. "Bucky saved them both. I'm grateful to him for that. I want - I need to know what he remembers, if anything. But that can wait. Bucky's always been his own man. He does stuff on his own time, and I don't know why I've been expecting that to change." He lifted his head, blue eyes determined. "Right now I just need to know that Tony and Clint are okay."

"We will soon," Phil said, brushing his fingers over the gun holstered at his hip. It was a comforting weight. He was relieved that Steve was thinking clearly. He didn't know what they would find when they got to the coordinates, but he hoped for everyone's sake that it would be Barnes and not the Winter Soldier who met them.


	5. Chapter 5

Hard as it was for Tony to walk, it was even harder to stay quiet. Bucky was leading the way through the base, swiftly dispensing of any guards that had the misfortune to come across them. Watching the men and women die was enough to make Tony feel a little nauseous, even though there was nothing in his belly. A constant stream of tears rolled down his cheeks. He knew he was making a quiet wheezing sound every time he sucked his thumb too hard, but it was either that or giving into uncontrollable crying.

Bucky came to a sudden stop and lifted a hand. Clint froze immediately, arm tightening around Tony’s shoulders – officially because he was protecting Tony, but also because he was limping heavily and needed the support. Tony stopped too, tense and afraid, as Bucky pushed open an old, creaking door. A gust of fresh air shot into the hall, so cold and welcoming that Tony trembled. He wanted to take off running until he found a safe place to hide, and the urge got even worse when he saw the forest surrounding the base. Only Clint’s tight grip kept him in place.

Head swiveling constantly, just waiting for another guard to come around, Bucky led them outside. It was dark and colder than Tony was expecting, but the air felt so good after way too long of that dumb cell he didn’t mind. Clint started to shiver, though, and he eyed the trees warily before looking up at Bucky. “How much further?”

“Not far,” Bucky said, the words clipped. 

“Not a man of many words, are you?” Clint mumbled, but he and Tony followed. The ground was cold too, and it was hard to walk, especially when they got to the actual forest. There were a lot of sticks and rocks that Tony couldn’t see, and he sucked his thumb to keep his whimpers down when he stepped on something sharp. 

When they were only about fifty feet into the woods, the Hydra base suddenly burst into a riot of noise. Sirens blared as lights flashed, and people started yelling. Tony tripped down and went down hard with a startled cry, skinning his knees and palms. He burst into tears. Bucky said a string of words in Russian, sounding pissed off, and grabbed Tony around the waist with his metal arm. He effortlessly threw Tony over his shoulder.

“Run!” he barked at Clint, and Clint obeyed, following Bucky as they ran deeper into the woods. Being draped over Bucky’s shoulder was a break for Tony’s feet, but it meant that his tummy was being rammed into Bucky’s armor with every step. A particularly hard bounce, when Bucky leapt over a log, jarred his bladder, and Tony sobbed as he wet himself again. If Bucky noticed, he gave no indication.

They ran for a long time, until Clint was crying and gasping for breath. Only then did Bucky stop, setting Tony on the ground none too gently. The extra jolt was just too much, and Tony threw up all over himself. Bucky took a hasty step back, turning his back on the two of them to scan the perimeter. Tony rolled over and curled up, looking around to see that Clint had done the same thing. Clint’s face was all red, which made the bruising look even worse. They stared at each other in silent, shared misery, too exhausted to even crawl that tiny distance.

Tony might have dozed for a little while. He wasn’t shivering, and time kept slipping away from him. He was just sleepy – until he heard unmistakable sounds of a plane landing, and then he wasn’t sure what to think. Bucky didn’t look too alarmed, so either he was assuming they were well hidden, or it wasn’t Hydra or the Winter Soldier had decided to sell them out after all. Regardless, Tony didn’t know what to do. He didn’t think he could stand anymore. He definitely couldn’t run. He just wanted everything to _stop_.

The sound of branches cracking grew progressively louder until suddenly, a fully suited Captain America burst out of trees. His shield was raised defensively as soon as he saw someone standing in the clearing, but he lowered it when he recognized Bucky. The two men just looked at each other for the longest time – Bucky made no move to attack, and neither did Steve - until the bushes were shoved aside again. Natasha and Phil stepped up next to Steve, and Steve pulled his cowl down.

“Bucky –” he started.

“Daddy,” Tony sobbed, finding the strength to say that one word when he heard his daddy’s voice. Four heads snapped in his direction. 

“Tony,” Steve breathed, something complex passing over his face. Fear maybe, or anger, or both. He crossed the ground between him and Tony in a handful of long steps and set his shield down when he bent to scoop up Tony. His grip was painfully tight, but Tony didn’t care. He managed to get his arms around Steve’s neck and dissolved into tears.

Phil had followed Steve, and when he spotted Clint he rushed over. “Clint? Honey?”

“Daddy,” Clint whispered, eyes filled with tears. “M’sorry. I know I’m s’posed to be a big boy, but I couldn’t protect Tony.”

“No, Clint. You did amazingly. You did everything you were supposed to. I’m proud of you,” Phil murmured, falling to his knees and enfolding Clint into a hug. Clint clung to him, shaking. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Daddy’s here, baby boy,” Steve whispered, sounding like he was trying not to cry himself. He wasn’t sure how to handle this. He’d never expected to find Tony and Clint this little. They only ever scened behind the privacy of closed doors, which meant this couldn't be voluntary. It had to be something that Hydra had done. He turned to Bucky, wanting answers, only to find that he and Natasha were already deep in conversation. He listened for a moment, but the Russian words meant little to him.

“Steve,” Phil said. “Is Tony okay?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. He tried to pry Tony away so that he could get a good look at him, but Tony flat-out refused. His cries started to escalate in volume and panic when Steve persisted, so he gave up and prayed that Tony wasn’t going to bleed to death in his arms. “How’s Clint?”

“The sooner we get them back to medical, the better.” Phil gently stroked Clint’s head. “Sweetheart, do you think you can walk?”

Clint shook his head without looking up, still trembling. Steve and Phil exchanged concerned glances, and then Steve stepped forward. It was difficult to shift Tony’s weight with Tony clinging to him so tightly, but he managed. Then he bent and easily lifted the toddler onto his other hip, prepared for the inevitable moment when Clint panicked and screamed for his daddy. Phil stood up quickly and grabbed Clint’s hands to reassure him.

“I’m right here, Clint, it’s okay. Uncle Steve is just going to carry you back to the plane. You love that, remember? Being carried?” He wiped a couple of tears from Clint’s face. 

It was true. Tony was used to being carried when he was a baby, but it was rarer for Clint. Not because Steve wasn’t willing, but because Clint usually insisted that big boys didn’t need to be carried around. He would only allow it if he was especially sleepy or not feeling well, even though it was obvious that he loved being carried. Even now, as he clung to Phil’s hand and sobbed, he grabbed onto Steve’s shirt with his free hand and curled into the warmth of Steve’s body as best he could.

Phil was right; they needed to get back to medical. "Natasha," Steve said.

Natasha ceased her conversation with Bucky immediately. "SHIELD is right behind us, and Bruce and Thor are with them," she said, tipping her head just enough to show them that she was wearing an earpiece. It wasn't one made by Tony, which meant that it was SHIELD-issued and probably had a direct link to Fury. Steve tried to be mad, but considering the state that Tony and Clint were in, he couldn't. 

"I take it the plan is to destroy the base," said Phil.

"You plan to let them live?" Bucky inquired, speaking in English for the first time since they'd walked into the clearing. It was a shock to hear how rough his voice sounded. Steve winced, hiding the movement by nuzzling Tony's hair. 

"No. If need be, I'll set the bomb myself."

"No!" Clint cried. "Daddy, no!"

Both of Natasha's eyebrows rose, but all she said was, "That won't be necessary. As much as I know you would like to help, you're both needed elsewhere."

It was galling to think that he wouldn't be able to take revenge on the people who had hurt their boys, but Steve knew she was right. He was pretty sure that just setting Tony down right now would be enough to drive the poor baby into hysterics; actually leaving Tony's sight would be nothing short of cruel. 

"Give them hell," he said, meaning it.

"Don't worry," Natasha replied. Her expression would've looked blank to anyone who didn't know her well, but there was a certain spark in her green eyes. "There won't be anyone left by the time we're finished, and by the time the Hulk is done there won't be any _thing_ left."

"Good," Steve muttered, hearing the distant sound of a plane approaching. Natasha said something to Bucky in Russian and he nodded; both of them disappeared into the trees, blending seamlessly into the shadows until not even Steve could make them out. He looked after them for a second, hoping that Natasha in particular would be careful. Bucky might have helped save Clint and Tony, but that didn't necessarily mean a whole lot.

"Steve, come on," Phil said, not unkindly, but firm. "Let's go."

Steve shook his head and hefted Tony a little higher. "Right."


	6. Chapter 6

As promised, the SHIELD jet was on the ground waiting for them. Flashes of lightening and distant bellowing told Phil that Thor and the Hulk had already departed the plane. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the base. It was tempting to follow the chaos and use his gun to get some vengeance of his own, but Clint came first – and the painful grip on Phil’s hands suggested that it was going to be a long time before he was let out of Clint’s sight.

A distinctly unimpressed Fury met them as they walked up the ramp. He pinned Phil in particular with a glare and said, “I hope you have an excellent explanation for going off without telling anyone. If it weren’t for Romanoff, you three would’ve been out there on your own.”

“I have no explanation at all,” Phil said blandly. The sole reason he was grateful for SHIELD’s presence was because of the medical facility on board; Natasha and the Winter Soldier were more than capable of taking down a Hydra base by themselves. Natasha could do it solo, if it came to that. Having Thor and the Hulk for back-up was just an unnecessary bonus.

“Can we talk later?” Steve said, already moving on. Phil was forced to walk with him, not that he was protesting. Fury fell into step behind them as they walked down the short hall. It was a smaller medical bay, of course, but it was equipped to deal with emergencies until they got to the helicarrier. Several doctors were standing there waiting for them with two stretchers. One of them immediately reached out to grab Tony.

That was a bad idea. Tony _lost_ it. He started screaming and crying like the doctor had stabbed him. The doctor recoiled, eyes wide in astonishment, when Clint kicked out at him and yelled, “You stay away from Tony!”

“Clint!” Phil said, quickly stepping forward and taking Clint’s weight from Steve. Clint burst into tears and wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist. He could only hold Clint for a moment before it was too much, and he sank down onto one of the stretchers when it became clear that Clint wasn’t willing or able to put his feet down.

“Shh, Tony, it’s okay. They’re not going to hurt you. They just want to make sure someone else didn’t,” Steve whispered, pressing Tony’s head to his shoulder. Tony buried his face and sobbed. 

“What the hell is going on?” Fury demanded.

The easiest was, conveniently, not completely a lie. “We think they were drugged,” said Phil. “But we don’t know with what, or when, or how much. I need you to treat them as best you can, but Steve and I aren’t leaving.” He didn’t bother trying to force an apologetic tone. Even if Clint had been unconscious, he wasn’t going anywhere. And there was no doubt in his mind that they’d have to use a crowbar to get Tony out of Steve’s arms at this point. 

“This is ridiculous,” one of the doctors muttered.

The head doctor, Dr. Sinclair, pinned the mutterer with a look and said to Phil, “Until we know what they were drugged with, we can’t risk giving them a sedative. So we will proceed as best we can. Captain Rogers, do you think you could sit down on the other stretcher?”

Steve nodded and obeyed. The next problem arose when Dr. Sinclair attempted to pull a curtain between the two stretchers. It was Clint’s turn to throw a fit because he couldn’t see Tony anymore; even though his view was only blocked for a handful of seconds, he was shaking like a leaf and panting between howls by the time one of the doctors wrenched the curtain back again. Phil hugged him tightly and tried to calm him down, shooting a worried look at Steve. What the hell had Hydra done to them?

"Time for plan B," Dr. Sinclair said. "Dr. Morrison, would you please look after Mr. Stark?"

"Certainly," Dr. Morrison said. She picked up one of the hospital gowns and stepped closer to Steve, bending down so she could whisper directly to Tony. The words were too quiet for Phil to hear, but it didn't seem like it mattered. He could tell that Tony was clinging to Steve too hard to pay any attention.

Dr. Sinclair took another one of the hospital gowns and smiled at Phil. "Agent Barton," she said kindly. "Or maybe I should call you Clint. Clint, would it be okay if you put one of these gowns on? They're not very nice looking, but I promise they'll be a lot more comfortable than what you're wearing right now."

Clint shuddered and didn't respond, still staring at Tony and Steve like he thought they were going to disappear at any minute. But Dr. Sinclair was stubborn, and refused to give up - which was a good thing because, even with Phil's help, it took a solid half an hour of coaxing before Clint would even look at Dr. Sinclair, and another fifteen minutes before he gave a shaky nod of agreement. Dr. Sinclair beamed at him like he'd promised to give her a million dollars and set the gown down next to Phil.

"Thank you very much, Clint. I'll just leave this here so that Agent Coulson can help you to put it on, okay? We'll draw the curtains." And then, when Clint drew in breath to scream, she added hastily, "Around the four of you. We'll draw the curtains around the four of you. Don't worry. Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark will be in full view the whole time. You'll be able to see them, okay?"

She waited until he nodded again before she took a few steps back and pulled the curtains across. It was a flimsy barrier at best, the outside room still visible at the corners where the curtains didn't quite meet, but Clint still relaxed. Phil hadn't realized just how tense his little boy was until Clint went boneless with a choked sob, shaking again. He lifted a hand and rubbed Clint's back again, feeling a new rush of helpless fury when his eyes met Steve's. This was one situation that neither of them could fix.

"Little bird," he said around the lump in his throat, cupping the back of Clint's head. "Honey, I need you to put that gown on. Okay? Daddy will help you."

"But -" Clint's eyes were wide and so, so scared. 

"I'll be right here the whole time, and Tony and Uncle Steve are right over there," Phil said soothingly, beginning the arduous process of prying Clint's fingers off of him. He finally took hold of the hem of Clint's filthy shirt, pulling it up, and Clint let go automatically. By the time he'd opened his mouth to protest, the shirt was off. Phil smiled warmly at him and tossed the shirt on the floor, then reached for Clint's pants. Both pants and boxers were just as filthy, if not more so, than the shirt. 

He'd underestimated the amount of bruising on Clint's skin; there didn't seem to be a visible inch of flesh that wasn't bruised, scratched, cut, or otherwise hurt in some way. He also noticed a handful of more serious wounds, including a taser mark on Clint's thigh and a slash across his ribs. Hydra had been thorough, no doubt in a quest for information. He had to hide his anger, knowing it would only upset Clint, and instead forced a smile.

"Here. This will feel better against your skin." He picked up the gown and helped Clint to put it on, loosely tying it around Clint's back.

The sound of crying made him turn, and he realized that Steve had been patiently trying to coax Tony into letting go just long enough to get undressed. Tony was blatantly refusing and getting closer to hysteria with every second. "No," he kept crying, grabbing onto Steve with desperate hands. "No, Daddy, no!"

"Tony, I'm not going anywhere," Steve said, sounding completely overwhelmed.

Phil closed his eyes in a brief bid for patience, then wrapped his arms around Clint and carefully scooped him up. Clint squeaked in surprise, not used to being carried his daddy. Phil carried him the couple of feet to the other stretcher and plunked him down beside Steve, staying within reach but picking up the spare gown. He looked down at Tony and a swell of grief temporarily washed aside the rage. It was heartbreaking to see such a proud man reduced to this kind of state.

"Hey sweetheart," he whispered, rubbing a hand up and down Tony's back. "I'm going to help you take your icky clothes off. You can stay on Daddy's lap the whole time, okay? You don't even have to move if you don't want to."

He straightened up and cleared his throat. After Clint and Tony were dealt with, he'd have to make sure that all of the doctors had signed the most up to date version of SHIELD's iron clad confidentiality agreement. "Can I get some scissors? And a couple of adult-sized diapers and baby wipes." 

"Yes, Agent Coulson," one of the doctors said immediately. A moment later, a pair of medical-grade scissors were thrust through the curtains. Phil took them and, very carefully, started cutting Tony's clothes off.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a long, agonizing two hours between the point when one of the doctors managed to get a blood sample from Tony and when the lab report came back with the primary results of what they’d been drugged with. Steve was less than pleased to see the confused looks on the faces of the doctors as they huddled over the report, because that meant Hydra had been experimenting again, but at least they were able to come up with a sedative that was safe to be administered to Clint and Tony.

"Captain, we really need you to step aside now," Dr. Morrison said once both boys were passed out, fixing him with a stern look when he went to protest. "I know you're worried about Mr. Stark. Believe me, I understand. But we need the space to do our work, and having you in the way isn't going to be helpful. Furthermore, we don't know what kind of injuries Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton have. They could be at serious risk for infection. We need to work in a sterilized environment right now. I promise you, he's unconscious right now, and he won't know if you're gone."

"If anything goes wrong -" Steve began.

"I'll call you. I give you my word."

Steve gave her a hard stare, then glanced at Tony. Much as he hated to leave Tony right now, he knew that it was for the best. Tony was clad only in a hospital gown and a diaper, so the bruises and cuts all over his body were visible to anyone who cared to look. He was in desperate need of medical attention. Reluctantly, he allowed Dr. Morrison to steer him backwards to the door and then out into the hall. Dr. Sinclair hustled Phil outside a moment later, leaving him with the same promise to summon them both if anything went wrong. Then she retreated into the room and pointedly closed the door behind them. The only thing that stopped Steve from breaking the door down was the viewing window.

"They'll be okay, Steve," Phil said, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that as much as he was Steve.

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll be fine physically. But mentally?" Steve put a hand to the glass. He and Tony had been age playing for close to two years now, and he'd never seen Tony that hysterical. It was like a completely different person from the loving baby that Steve was familiar with. Was that because of the trauma? The drug Hydra had forced on them? Some combination of the two? Oh god, what would he do if Tony was stuck like this forever?

"Agent Coulson, Captain Rogers. I'd like an update."

At the sound of Fury's voice, Steve went tense. They'd been doing such a good job of keeping the age play under wraps until now. Clint and Phil had found out, of course, but that was okay - it had turned out to be good for all four of them to have the extra support. But Fury... there was no world in which the Director of SHIELD would understand something like this. He wouldn't get Tony's and Clint's need to be little, and nor would he understand Steve's and Phil's desire to take care of them. He shot a slightly panicked look at Phil, but Phil didn't return it. He had already turned around and was looking at Fury with a very calm, composed look: Agent Coulson at his finest.

"Agent Barton and Mr. Stark have been drugged," Phil said. "The lab report came back as an unknown drug with some brand new substances no one has ever seen before. As far as we can tell, the drug has forced them into a childlike state of mind. They're highly confused and disoriented and don't seem to recognize anyone. Whether or not that was its intended use, it's impossible to say."

Fury looked between the two of them, his eye narrowed. "They recognized you and Rogers."

"They understood that we are safe, sir. That doesn't necessarily mean that Barton recognized me as his partner, or that Stark knew who Captain America was. After what Hydra did - and there is clear evidence that they have both been tortured repeatedly - you can hardly blame them for clinging to the first safe thing they came across. Right now, they are essentially children and that's what any sane child would do."

"They called you _daddy_ ," Fury said, like the word was something foreign.

"I don't profess to understand exactly how the drug works. I can only offer you my best guess," Phil answered. "Neither Barton nor Stark had a happy childhood. Maybe they were just latching onto and expressing a need for whoever felt safe." 

It was the truth, sort of, and Steve had never admired Phil's ability to weave a half truth amongst lies more than he did right then. He met Fury's intent gaze. "Tony was hysterical," he said, hoping that Tony would forgive him someday for admitting that to Fury. "He had no idea that we were back on safe ground. When one of the doctors was trying to talk to him, he was convinced that she was a Hydra agent who was there to harm him. He kept begging me to protect him." His throat felt tight and he stopped speaking. He hadn't been there to protect Tony when Tony needed him the most, and now there was nothing that Steve could protect him against.

Fury sighed. "And the drug?"

"I've instructed the doctors to take more samples while they're unconscious," said Phil. "It should give the lab more to go on. Hopefully once Barton and Stark wake up, the drug will have worn off and they'll be back to their old selves."

"I never thought I'd see the day where I wished Stark was back to normal," Fury muttered, glancing in the viewing window. "Alright. I'll instruct the lab to make this drug their first priority, and I'll have a couple of vials delivered back to Dr. Banner once he's back to normal. It's possible the drug would have a different effect on every person that's injected, and he's most familiar with Stark and Barton. In the meantime, if those two wake up and they're still acting like children, they're your responsibility. This is not a daycare."

Steve puffed up, glaring at him. "That's not a problem," he bit out, irritated at the implication that he would abandon Tony right now. Even if he wasn't used to this, he would never abandon Tony.

"Thank you," Phil added, clipped and cold for the same reason. Fury nodded at them both before he turned and strode away.

"That was a good save," Steve said once he was sure Fury was gone.

Phil shrugged. "I didn't tell him anything that was a lie," he said wearily. "We both know that Clint and Tony never would have slipped into their little headspaces while they were in a Hydra prison. Hell, those two never slip when they're outside of our apartments. It had to be the drug - and they were tortured, so the trauma wouldn't have helped. Fury doesn't need to know about what we do in the privacy of the tower. That has nothing to do with what the drug did, and it would only embarrass Clint and Tony if he knew."

"Embarrassed is one word for it," Steve agreed. More like the two of them, especially Tony, would've gone out of their way to make Fury's life a living hell. He found himself smiling a little at the thought. "Still. I wouldn't have thought of that."

They both looked back through the viewing window at the same time. It was hard to see Tony like this, so quiet and still, and know that it wasn't just his lover lying on that bed - it was his baby boy, too. He couldn't stop himself from voicing the thought looming in the back of his head. "What if the drug doesn't wear off? What if they're like this forever?"

"I don't know, Steve," Phil said, suddenly sounding very tired. "Take care of them just like we always do, I suppose. Let's not invite trouble, okay? Mind altering drugs usually lose their potency after a certain amount of time. Chances are they'll be back to normal when they wake up."

It was hard to say whether or not that would be better. Steve had no idea how Tony would act. He'd be mortified, most likely, over his actions. Would he remember what happened? Would he be traumatized? Would he be scared? Would he ever want to age play again? Would he even want anything to do with Steve? Those were all questions that Steve had no answers to. He leaned against the viewing window, watching as Dr. Morrison and another doctor carefully rolled Tony onto his stomach. His back was littered with small, speckled burns that had to be painful. Steve hadn't even noticed them before, and he winced when he remembered scooping Tony up and hugging him tightly, even though Tony had probably been too emotional to even recognize the extra pain.

"Come on, baby, you can do this," he whispered to himself, willing Tony to be okay. Because if something went wrong and Tony wasn't okay - if he seized up and died right there on the gurney in front of Steve's eyes - he had no idea what he would do. He just needed to know that Hydra hadn't taken this from him too.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time that Natasha, Thor and Bruce returned, Phil and Steve had been allowed back into the room. The list of injuries was too long and detailed to rattle off, but, to sum it all up, it would be a while before Clint or Tony would be allowed out of bed, never mind before they would be okay to fight. Phil was already imagining the tantrums that would follow that bit of information, regardless of whether Tony and Clint were big or little at the time. None of the Avengers responded well to being benched.

He set his free hand on Clint’s forehead, frowning at the heat that he could feel. Clint stirred a little at the touch, head turning in Phil’s direction, nuzzling into Phil’s hand like a kitten. Phil had to smile at the sight even as he swallowed hard, forcing back the sting of tears. They still didn’t know what would happen when the boys woke up and the word ‘worried’ didn’t begin to cover it. At least he’d gotten all of the doctors and nurses to sign even tighter confidentiality agreements. If any of them so much as breathed in the direction of the media, their lives would be over.

The noise out in the hall told him the others had come back. He straightened up, glancing over at Steve. Against the doctor’s recommendation, Steve was sitting on the bed with his back against the wall. Tony was propped up against him, curled into Steve’s embrace, almost hiding his tear-streaked face. His thumb was in his mouth and he was sleeping soundly, which was a change from earlier: the horrific nightmare that had driven Steve up onto the bed in the first place, instead of just sitting beside Tony and holding his hand, had ended.

Natasha entered the room first, silent and stealthy as always, her concerned gaze sweeping the room. Her mouth tightened into a little frown of displeasure at the scene. Bruce was right behind her, holding his pants up with one hand; he immediately made a grab for the clipboards hanging at the end of the beds with his free hand and fell more than sat down into one of the visitor’s chairs. Thor came a few seconds later, and with him was, much to Phil’s surprise, Bucky Barnes. 

Steve straightened up, his eyes widening. “Bucky?”

“Steve,” Barnes answered shortly, and Steve froze up like he’d been tasered.

“How are they?” Natasha asked over whatever Steve might have said next, looking directly at Phil.

“They were tortured,” Phil replied, knowing there was no point in beating around the bush. He didn’t bother to give her the full list; Bruce could fill her in later with far more detail. “And drugged. We don’t know with what yet, but that’s why they were acting the way they were.”

Natasha just looked at him for a moment, and in that span of time Phil acknowledged the fact that she knew he was lying with a short nod. The age play and what it meant would have to come out amongst the team, because Natasha either knew or suspected and that meant Bruce and Thor wouldn’t be far behind. That was the problem when you worked and lived with people who were far too intelligent for their own good. Nothing remained a secret for long. He sighed inwardly. Tony in particular was going to freak out. 

But now wasn’t the time. Even at SHIELD, you couldn’t be sure what eyes were watching or what ears were listening. He glanced at Bruce and added, “We were hoping that you would be able to run some tests to figure out what the drug was and what it does.”

“I’ll do my best,” Bruce said, setting down Clint’s clipboard and picking up Tony’s. “My best guess is that it’s some kind of drug that’s meant to lower inhibitions… or shut down the part of your brain that monitors impulse control. They probably wanted Tony to build weapons for them and Clint to be their sniper. Only it backfired. We’re lucky that the two of them wanted to act like kids more than they wanted to kill someone, because this have gone in another direction very quickly.” 

Lucky wasn’t the word that Phil would have used, but he understood what Bruce was getting at. He tenderly smoothed his hand over Clint’s hair. “Do you have any idea when it will wear off?”

“Based on what I’m seeing here, it should metabolize fairly quickly. But it’s difficult to say what kind of long-term effect it might have. I’ll need to run some tests.”

“We’re going to be taking them back to the mansion, so you’ll have all the time you need,” said Steve. He was carefully not looking at Barnes. 

“Are you sure it’s okay to move them?” Natasha asked.

“No. But I’m not letting Tony wake up here,” Steve said in a tone that allowed for no arguments. “Tony hates being in Medical, and if he wakes up acting the way he did before it’s a lot easier to have him at the Tower. At least there we won’t have to worry about curious agents trying to see what’s going on.”

“Will you need help moving them?” Thor said.

“No,” Phil said, flicking his eyes meaningfully in Barnes’s direction. He wasn’t sure why Barnes was here. But there was no way that Barnes was coming back to the Tower until he’d been fully vetted by SHIELD. One of the team would need to stay and make sure that the Winter Solider didn’t make a reappearance. Normally that would’ve been Steve, but Thor was the next best choice. At the very least, Thor was probably the only Avenger capable of putting the Winter Soldier down without much of a fight.

Thor caught the message and nodded at Phil. “Very well. I will keep the comm that the Man of Iron gave to me on. If you need me, you will be able to reach me swiftly.”

“Thank you, Thor,” Phil said, grateful. “Natasha, would you -?”

She came closer to the bed and sat down, gracefully swinging her legs up. She twitched when Clint rolled into her, his head coming to rest on her breasts, but otherwise didn’t move. Once he was sure that Clint was settled, Phil stood up. He hated to leave Clint for even a minute, and probably wouldn’t have left if Steve hadn’t been there, but he needed to secure transport for them and that probably meant a conversation with Fury. He didn’t want Fury back in Medical, so Phil had to go to him.

“They wanted to go home,” Barnes said suddenly, and everyone looked at him sharply. He was looking at Steve. “I was supposed to motivate him to start building weapons, but he was crying for you. He said he wanted his daddy, and I knew that was you, that he was yours. I wanted to bring him home to you.”

“Buck…” Steve’s voice was weak. Phil could tell that he had no idea what he was supposed to say, and couldn’t blame him. Out of all the things to break through the Winter Soldier’s brainwashing, Phil never would have expected that it would be Tony, and without Tony even trying, at that. He glanced at Tony, who looked impossibly sweet and innocent even now, and the strength of Steve's hold on him. It wasn’t hard to imagine why Barnes would have been swayed.

“Thor,” Phil said quietly. “Please escort Sergeant Barnes down to the holding cells for now.”

Thor nodded and clapped a huge hand on Barnes’s shoulder, steering him out of the room. Barnes went without argument, never once looking away from Steve and Tony. Phil followed, though he turned in the opposite direction. He found Dr. Sinclair and put in a very firm request to have Clint and Tony prepared for immediate transport back to the Tower. She wasn’t very pleased, and tried to talk him out of it, but Phil was firm. The boys were not staying in Medical.

“Do you really think that’s a wise idea?” Fury asked when Phil went to find him. He was sitting in his office, going through paperwork, but he sat back when Phil walked in.

“Barton and Stark are notoriously bad at staying in Medical. I don’t think letting them wake up there is a good idea,” Phil said. 

“What happens if something goes wrong? Or they’re still in an altered state of mind when they wake up?”

“Rogers and I are better equipped to care for them if that’s the case.”

“And if the alarm to assemble goes off?”

“I’ll stay with them, and Rogers can go. It would be no different than if the alarm went off here.” Except Steve would feel better about leaving Tony if they were at the Tower, where JARVIS could watch over everything and there were no prying eyes. 

Fury gave him a hard stare. “I don’t appreciate being left in the dark, Coulson. I know there are things you’re not telling me. You report to SHIELD, remember.”

“With all due respect, sir, I really don’t think you want to question my loyalties,” Phil said pleasantly. The Avengers were a separate entity from SHIELD and Phil had been assigned as their handler. Technically, although Clint and Natasha were still SHIELD agents, their first loyalty would always be to the Avengers. Phil was the same. The three of them had fallen into a sort of grey area no one had ever questioned too closely, and for good reason. If forced to pick a side, SHIELD wouldn’t be happy with the answer.

Fury just snorted and waved a hand. “Get out of here, Agent.”


	9. Chapter 9

Steve couldn't think about Bucky right now. He literally could not do it. Even just letting his mind go in that direction was enough to make him feel nauseous. No, he had to concentrate on Tony. When they got back to the tower, he carried Tony and Clint down to the floor that Phil and Clint shared. He would've rather taken Tony back to their floor, but separating him and Clint just wasn't feasible right now. The last thing Steve wanted was another panic attack from either of them.

Not surprisingly, Natasha and Bruce followed them step for step. Steve ignored them both, even going so far as to pointedly shut the guest bedroom door in Natasha's face. He needed a moment of privacy with Tony, starting with getting his little boy out of that horrible hospital gown and into something much more comfortable. He set Tony down on the bed and carefully removed the gown and diaper, the latter of which he'd noticed wasn't very good quality.

The second thing he did was give Tony a sponge bath, wiping away what he could of the blood, urine, sweat, vomit and tears when Tony had quite a few bandages covering his body. He really needed a bath, but that could wait until Tony woke up. Steve paused in the midst of wringing out the cloth, wondering - not for the first time - if he would be taking a shower with his lover or giving his little one a bath. Either was a viable option right now. He just wanted Tony to wake up.

He finished wiping Tony down and gently patted him dry, then applied a liberal amount of diaper cream to help with the rash that came from sitting in pee for too long before putting on a fresh diaper. A bright yellow onesie, one of Tony's favorites because of the green Hulk on the front, followed, and as Steve snapped the crotch shut he sighed. He'd done this dozens of times before, but never when Tony was actually unconscious. There was such a marked difference from his normally playful little boy: Tony's face was so slack, it was eerie. 

"I need you to be okay," he whispered, putting his face next to Tony's. "I know that's really selfish, but I need you, Tony." His throat ached at the thought of trying to go through life without this amazing man at his side. Steve could do what needed to be done, but only if he had Tony to go home at the end of it all. He'd almost lost Tony once when he became too obsessed with trying to find Bucky. He couldn't bear losing him now. And as much as he loved Tony as a baby, Steve needed adult Tony even more.

Tony slept on, heedless of Steve's plea, and after a moment Steve got up and pulled the blankets over him, knowing that Tony got cold easily when he slept. He switched Tony's nightlight on, turned the overhead light off, and backed out of the room. He left the door open a crack as per usual, not surprised when he turned around and found Phil sitting in the chair with Natasha and Bruce on the couch. Phil was looking as tired as Steve felt. 

Bruce smiled briefly at Steve before turning to Phil. "What you do behind closed doors is your own business, and normally I wouldn't care. But in this case, it could help me to determine what will happen to Tony and Clint long term. Just how long have you been age playing, exactly?"

"About two years, but Tony and I are pretty consistent," said Steve.

"Clint and I have been doing it for a little longer, but recently we've been doing it more," said Phil.

"I just thought you were all sleeping together," Natasha said bluntly.

Steve choked. " _What_?"

She shrugged. "It's Stark. You know his reputation as well as I do. I wouldn't have put anything past him. Or Clint, for that matter. Those two can talk you two into anything. At least now I know why." It might have been Steve's imagination, but he was pretty sure she was smirking a little.

"No, Natasha," Phil said wearily. "It was just meant to be a way to unwind, that's all."

Bruce rubbed his chin and sighed. "I can run some tests, but I'm not sure what to look for. If this were a temporary state of mind, I think it would be easier to snap Clint and Tony out of it. But this is something they're both used to. It's become normal, even natural, to them."

"Won't the drug just wear off?" Steve said.

"It will eventually. All drugs do. But my concern is that the long term effects it might have."

"What are you saying?" Natasha said. She was watching Bruce closely. "Are you trying to suggest that they might... what? Not be adults anymore? Ever?"

"That's a possibility, but a slim one. I'm more inclined to think that it might be harder for them to _stay_ adults. I'm guessing that in the past, their headspaces would've been something they actively had to get into, correct?" Bruce waited for both Steve and Phil to nod before he continued. "It wasn't something that just happened by accident, or if it was that was very rare. That might not be the case anymore. It's just theory at this point, but the drugs could've opened up that connection, loosened their control, and made it much easier for one or both of them to slip."

Considering that Bruce was even bothering to bring this up, Steve suspected it was much more than just a possibility. There had to have been something in that lab report. He exchanged a glance with Phil, not even sure how Tony would handle that - but the answer was probably not well. Even though he wasn't the CEO of Stark Industries anymore, Tony was still such a public figure, and this was such a private matter. 

"What's the alternative?" Phil asked.

"Well, there's an equal possibility that they'll wake up and be no different from how they were before. Barring the trauma from what happened, of course," Bruce said, pulling his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes. "Hydra's never been the most technologically advanced company in the world, so I don't see why they'd be any better when it comes to pharmaceuticals. Which, really, is as concerning as it is reassuring. God knows what they put into that concoction to try to make it work. We have the lab results, but the quality of their ingredients and where they came from will always be in question."

"They do have a strong history with fucking around with people's brains," Natasha said quietly, glancing at Steve. He refused to meet her gaze. 

"So we wait," he said. "Until Tony and Clint wake up, and then we handle it... however we have to. I don't think I need to tell either of you that none of this leaves the room."

Bruce nodded, and Natasha made a face. "I could have gone my whole life without knowing this about my teammates," she said. "I think I liked it better when I thought you were all having sex."

"Sorry to burst your bubble," Steve said, knowing that she was just teasing. He appreciated the effort; normally, Tony and Clint were the ones who kept things on the team from getting too serious. The two of them were always ready with a joke or a sarcastic comment to break up the monotony. Steve could just imagine Tony leering and offering to have sex with Steve, Clint and Phil if it would make Natasha feel better. An offer which would probably get Tony punched in the arm, but which he would gladly make anyway.

"Bruce, do you have any idea _when_ the drugs will wear off?" Phil asked.

"Based on what I saw on that report, I would think fairly quickly. But again, I'll have to run some tests," Bruce said. He went to stand and nearly stumbled, face suddenly going grey. Steve leapt to catch him, realizing that none of them had really slept or eaten since Tony and Clint had been captured. And then Bruce had transformed into the Hulk, which could completely exhaust him even on the best days.

"You need to eat and rest first," he said firmly.

"Steve -"

"I'll tell you like I tell Tony. You need to be able to think clearly to run tests, Bruce."

"He's right," Natasha said, not unkindly, and rose to take Bruce's arm and support his weight. She helped him to hobble out of the room, leaving Steve and Phil alone.

No conversation passed between them. Frankly, Steve didn't know what there was to say. Too much was up in the air, and no one had any concrete answers. He eventually went back into the room where Tony was sleeping and sat down to watch him. Sometime towards morning, Tony mumbled something and rolled over onto his side. It wasn't much, but it was something and Steve would take whatever he could get. As the sun started to rise, Steve dared to put a hand on his shoulder and give him a gentle shake.

"Tony? Hey, Tony. Can you hear me? Tony?"

Tony's eyes fluttered open, revealing sleep-hazed brown eyes. He stared up at Steve for a long time before he mumbled, "Steve?"

Steve's heart was in his throat. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Tony just blinked at him and then sighed, eyes slipping shut without answering. Steve let him go back to sleep, too weak with relief to do anything but just sit there for a moment. Tony had known who he was. He'd called him 'Steve'. The drug had worn off.

Everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or so Steve thinks. TBC in the next part of the series. Until then, darlings!

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


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